Fall Asleep with you in My Heart
by cartersdaughter
Summary: DeanxReader. Based on a conversation a friend and I had about Dean being the type of person to fall asleep if someone played with his hair. Then we started talking about how maybe it reminded him of Mary, maybe she used to play with Dean's hair to put him to sleep, and part of the reason he keeps it short is so people don't play with it.


Another hunt under this belt, Dean joins you on the couch with a sigh. "What a mess!"

You can hear Sam puttering around in other parts of the bunker putting away various weapons and other items that had been used on the hunt. "I take it, it didn't go well?"

"Typical salt and burn. Only Casper wasn't too keen on being sent to the afterlife, which lead to Sammy getting tossed into a headstone." Dean scrubs his hand down his face then back down his neck, hissing as he touches what must be a sore spot.

"Looks like you got hurt too," you say running your fingers along Dean's hairline just below his ear at the top of his neck causing him to hiss again.

"It's nothing. Just a scratch, "Dean says swatting your hand away.

"It's not just a scratch. And even if it is you should still let me take a look," you say while getting up to retrieve the first aid kit.

"It's fine. I'm fine." Dean makes to get up and follow you.

"Stay. I'll be right back." The older Winchester grumbles but sinks back onto the couch.

You return with the first aid kit to find Dean with his head back against the couch, mouth open, dozing. You make your footsteps loud so as not to startle him.

He blinks drowsily up at you. "Told you I was fine," he mumbles sleepily.

"So you said, but humor me, okay. It could get infected and where would that leave Sam and me, huh? Taking care of your sorry butt," you say with a smile.

"You would love it. And you know it."

"Yeah I would, but that's beside the point," you say as you sat next to him once more, pulling disinfectant and butterfly bandages out of the kit. "How did you do this anyway?" you ask while pulling his head down into your lap.

"Clipped it on the headstone, while I was helping Sam up." Dean hisses again as you brush a piece of disinfectant covered gauze across the cut.

"Good job, Mr. Graceful," you hold back a laugh as you probe the cut, gently brushing stray hairs out of the way at the same time.

"Least I'm more graceful than Sasquatch," he mumbles as his eyes droop closed once more.

"Is that why he's still walking and you're not?" you ask teasingly, even though you know Dean would have patched Sam up first. He probably hadn't even told his little brother about the cut. To Dean Winchester if an injury wasn't life threatening, no one needed to know.

Getting no response to your question you persist with your ministrations. The older Winchester continues to doze as you clip a few strands of his hair, so they wouldn't get stuck to the bandages. That gets his attention, his eyes slitting open, "Whatcha doin'?"

"Nothing, it's fine," you say brushing a hand through his hair as you placed the last bandage causing his eyes to drift again despite his attempts to pry them back open.

"That's my line," he mutters. "Mmm that's nice," he whispers turning his head so more of his hair is in your hand.

Seeing the pleasure Dean is drawing from the action, you continue to card your fingers through his hair gently pulling each piece apart picking pieces of graveyard dirt out of some of the strands. You pause thinking he is asleep, but not really wanting to quit. So you are surprised when you hear, "My mom used to do this."

You pull your hand away startled as if burnt. You have never heard Dean mention his mother.

"No don't stop." Dean is slightly more awake now. "It's calming. My mom used to do that. Before bed, she would tell me angels were watching over me then brush my hair until I fell asleep. Tried to do it for Sam, but he was just a baby so he didn't have enough hair. Now he's got too much." He chuckles sleepily at his own joke. "She brushed his head though, rubbed it I guess. Then I brushed his hair for him. Puts him out like a light."

You bury your fingers as deep as you can into Dean's hair gently rubbing them against his scalp before resuming the carding motion until you see his eyes slip closed once more. "He's not the only one," you whisper. You shift your body slightly so you can lay your head on the arm of couch, never once ceasing the petting motion for fear you will wake Dean. And he needs the sleep.

You get as comfortable as you are going to, given the present situation: your head resting on the arm of the couch, your legs half on the couch under Dean half on the floor. At some point, Dean's legs had made it up onto the couch, so he is lying completely on the couch, and you are mostly lying on the couch. You realized Dean wasn't lying. The repetitive motion really is extremely calming. So calming, in fact, you are putting yourself to sleep as well.

You are right on the cusp of being completely asleep when you hear light footsteps approaching. You don't jump at all, recognizing the footsteps as Sam's, vaguely wondering what he could want at this hour. Shouldn't he be sleeping as well?

As Sam's footsteps come to a halt, you raise your head off the couch arm slightly and turn it to face him. He has a slight smile on his face looking at his brother. "Sam?" you ask starting to ruffle Dean's hair to keep him asleep.

"He hasn't let anyone do that since Mom," Sam whispers sounding in awe. "At least not while, he's been sober. He usually has to be strung out on cough syrup, painkillers, or booze. It calms him. But I think it reminds him too much of Mom. You remind him of Mom."

You grimace slightly more awake now, and Sam quickly backtracks, "In a good way. You remind him of her personality, of her love, of the good things. You're good for him." He smiles, ruffling his brother's hair, and drapes a blanket over the two of you before turning to leave.

"He's good for me too," you whisper as Sam leaves causing him to pause in the doorway.

"Good night Y/N."

"Good night, Sam."


End file.
